


With Blue Eyes

by Dipdop_Pinetop



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: 20's-Style Mafia, Adult Dipper Pines, BillDip, Foreplay, Gun Kink, Guns, Human Bill Cipher, M/M, Mafia AU, NSFW, Sexual Content, Smut, billdip smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 04:20:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8313784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dipdop_Pinetop/pseuds/Dipdop_Pinetop
Summary: Caught in the heat of two rival Families, Dipper and Mabel are not entirely prepared for their rendezvous with the son of their great uncles' arch nemeses: a certain Bill Cipher.Inspired by the Mafia AUBirthday oneshot for RoboticSpaceCase ♥





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RoboticPopSauce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoboticPopSauce/gifts).



 

**~**

 

 

It was an almost overbearingly sunny day in Gravity Falls, Oregon, and there wasn’t a thing going wrong for the Pines family. Or at least, that would be how it appeared to any outsider trying to steal a peek at the goings-on of one of the largest crime Families in the States. All seemed well, what with the head of the syndicate gushing over the lavish income his “business” had reaped due to their most recent “legal” venture, as well as the twin brother who sectioned most of the financial harvest to sow back into the science ventures he was known to focus on. Between the two of them, it was easy to see who the head of the Family was truly. _Someone_ had to conduct the hits, after all.

 

There were no children, or at least none directly had by the older, slightly gruff gentlemen. Their lineage was dependent on the two youngsters siphoned off to their isolated cabin in the woods by the parents who decided they had much better things to do that summer. Perhaps the parents were hoping the younger pair of twins would pick up a few tricks of the trade to help out more around the house.

 

They were twelve at the time.

 

Of course the older set welcomed the two with open arms, though they may have not exactly sent them back once the summer ended. The twins learned the value of a dollar, as well as how to determine how much their time and energy was worth at the front known as the Mystery Shack. Life at the cabin was a strange one, but it was only supportive of the woes and throes of childhood, with neither Dipper nor Mabel ever having learned of the darker, more sinister acts their two great uncles partook in behind closed doors. Naturally of the pair, Dipper was the more suspicious and paranoid. He spent months trying to uncover the mysteries of the cabin, and of their estranged great uncles they had only _just_ heard of in their entire lives. He concocted elaborate plans, some of which involved explosives, but thankfully only half of the cabin was destroyed, and only one or two people were critically injured. It was no one they knew, as Stan put it one evening.

 

Mabel, on the other hand, was the more sly and cunning of the younger twins. She stepped as though she were walking solely on air, and oftentimes was able to pick up on snippets of conversation between the two great uncles. When she would relay the information to her brother, however, it simply riled up his paranoia once more, and their cover would nearly be blown thanks to Dipper’s “enthusiasm.” Still, in the span of five years, Stanley and Stanford Pines had successfully held onto their secret business despite the children consistently attempting to lay their hands on the family’s plans.

 

Life was strange, but it was a good life for the strange family.

 

When the children approached their eighteenth birthday, it was fairly evident how much older the two great uncles were. The wrinkles sagging at the corners of their eyes, as well as the fact that Stan was nearly entirely blind due to cataracts, made the pair look all the more older than they actually were. Mirrors and clothes were the only things keeping them grounded in their age, even if their energy and stamina suggested otherwise. Stan could still hack a main artery with the best of them, and Ford could still remember the exact increments and timing of sulfuric acid to dispose of the bodies. It truly was miraculous for their age.

 

The candles adorning the birthday cake was the only light source of the room for the longest time, reflecting in glimmering brilliance over the chocolate ganache. With two small huffs, the now-young-adults blew out the flickering flames and grinned excitedly as the lights were turned back on. Back-pats and congratulations for the birthday twins were offered, as well as two heaping slices of decadent chocolate cake.

 

“So now you’re old enough to finally get the hell out,” Stan mused rather happily, though that act dropped almost instantly the moment he saw the twins’ horrified faces.

 

“Never mind him, kids,” Ford couldn’t help but chuckle, “he’s just teasing you. Aren’t you, Stanley?”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Sure,” the other murmured around the lip of his coffee cup. Mabel accepted it right away, and rushed over to tackle Stan in a suffocating bear hug, while Dipper was ever the suspicious one who simply squinted a bit in an attempt to better read his great uncle.

 

“Thank you for celebrating with us, Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford!” Mabel grinned widely, though most of her thanks was muffled by her nuzzling the older gentleman’s suited chest. “It means a lot that you took us in, even when we never even heard of you before.”

 

“Kid, you say that every year. Maybe even every week,” Stan murmured with the smallest of smiles. “Come on now, you’re family! Now have some cake and stop wiping that makeup of yours on my tux.”

 

Relinquishing her hold on her family member, she turned and went to retrieve her plate filled with cake, though she didn’t make it quite that far before there was a steady, hard-handed knock at the front door. The strength behind each knock made the hinges themselves squeak in protest, yet somehow the door managed to remain upright and bolted. As Dipper and Mabel exchanged curious glances, Ford and Stanley did the same. Two sets of deeply furrowed brows then turned back towards the general location of the front door before the older pair moved to get ready to tell off whoever was intruding on the birthday party.

 

“…I thought we made it known for our partners to not interrupt us today,” Ford mumbled under his breath. For a moment, that was all that was said in the dimly lit hallway.

 

“I made sure there would be no business tonight. They respected it every other year.”

 

The older Pines twins paid no heed to the younger two hot on their trail, which was possibly their first mistake of the evening. Or second, considering they left their firearms back in the living room. After all, there was to be no business that evening.

 

 

**_Knock-knock-knock-knock_ **

 

 

“Quit pounding! We’re comin.’”

 

Wishing they had installed a latch to peer out the front door with, Stan fixed up his suit lapels and ensured he was looking at his prime before unlocking the door and clicking in the hitch on the doorknob. He opened the door slowly, and nearly groaned at the sight he saw.

 

“…What the _hell_ are **you** doing here?!”

 

 

**~**

 

 

There was a certain apprehension to turning eighteen, but mostly only because in times such as these, one was expected to marry fairly young. It wasn’t some law of the land or something like that, but it went without saying that you must marry someone with a fairly decent title if you yourself didn’t hold one. Such was the woes of Dipper Pines, who really didn’t think he had much. Sure his family did pretty well, and he supposed one day he would inherit the ever-prosperous Mystery Shack, but he couldn’t understand how such a dive did so well on tourism. There weren’t even that many people wanting to come to Oregon. It was no New York City, where everyone and their aunts and uncles wanted to go to become famous. Life wasn’t that easy in the 20’s, but the Pines family seemed to be doing alright. Dipper himself had a meager, steady income from working at the Mystery Shack and doing various errands for the townsfolk, though not many people in the local town wanted anything to do with himself or Mabel. Some were kind and would offer condolences on the twins being “abandoned” as the rumor went, while others were feeling infringed upon what with the Pines’ wealth threatening their own; namely the Northwests.

 

Dipper always had the sinking feeling he would have to marry Pacifica for her title and prestige. She was probably the last person he ever wanted to _think_ about marrying. She was abrasive, brash, and uncouth in every sense of the word. She cleaned up very nicely and paraded about with her stacks of cash acting as some sort of hand-fan, certainly, but her personality and mentality were nothing short of rotten. Sickly and borderline diseased was her moral code, and it made Dipper frustrated just to think of her overly blonde hair that probably wasn’t even natural. While he had no qualms with women dying their hair or anything of the sort, it was just something Pacifica Northwest did that made him even angrier with her. She could have liked the color orange and it would have made him despise her all the more. Dipper just didn’t tolerate the idea of the girl all that well.

 

Throughout the night and even the nights prior leading up to his shared birthday, Dipper couldn’t seem to let go of the thought of marriage, and worried endlessly about his two great uncles approaching him on the subject. Mabel was somewhat excused from that talk, as it was more common for the man to approach and court the woman. In Dipper’s eyes, that just gave her a free ride to do what she wanted, which she did daily. Even as the lights were dimmed and the illuminated cake was brought forth, Dipper already had his wish in mind for the evening:

 

_‘Please, please don’t **make** me get married.’_

 

So when the hefty banging on the door proceeded to catch everyone’s attention, Dipper finally had gotten his worries off his mind. The only downside to that was that now there was a new worry taking its place: _what was going on?_

 

“What the _hell_ are **you** doing here?!” Grunkle Stan all but barked at the tall, svelte blond in the doorway. The stranger lit up at the tone, his small smirk growing exponentially. The very sight made Dipper’s blood run cold.

 

“Well, now! It’s so good to see you, too, Fez!” the young man beamed. He cast his almost incandescent blue eyes over the four family members, seeming to take in the full sight of the odd group. There was a tug at the corner of his lips once he laid eyes on Mabel and Dipper. The feeling was getting weirder and weirder. “I just stopped by to offer my congratulations! I heard word your charges were coming-of-age, and what an awful thing it would be to not drop in and say ‘happy birthday’ for myself. So here I am! Happy birthday, you two.”

 

As Stan seemed ready to slam the door in the blond’s grinning face, Ford stepped in and somehow managed to keep the control of the room despite not saying much, if anything. Dipper and Mabel’s widened brown eyes glanced between their great uncles and the stranger as the silence grew much broader. There was nothing said for the longest time, and admittedly, the younger pair weren’t exactly sure of what to do. They never felt so much hostility in a smile as innocent-looking as this stranger’s. Mabel was the first to speak up, but not before she took a half-step forward and curtsied in politeness to the other. It honestly seemed to take the blond off guard, as his smile lessened considerably. His brow even seemed to knit.

 

“…Thank you,” the brunette offered quietly, looking up as she righted herself. She didn’t step away or back down, which seemed to further confuse the stranger. Eventually piercing blue eyes drew up to meet Dipper’s own muddled browns, and made the male twin all the more like a deer in headlights.

 

“No ‘thank you’ from _you_ , huh?” the stranger began to smile again, which only grew wider as Dipper displayed more of his uncertainty. “Eh. Probably the smart thing. You’re welcome, by the way, girlie. What’s your name?”

 

“Cipher…” Stan warned with a hiss.

 

“I thought that was _my_ name! But seriously, what’s yours, toots?” the blond began once more.

 

“You know you’re not supposed to be anywhere **near** here, you-“

 

“Ah-ah!” Cipher interjected with a tone that just made Stan all the more hot. “No need for insults, Fez! After all, aren’t our Families on the mend? Wouldn’t want to mess up **that** little agreement, now _would_ we?”

 

Dipper’s focus darted between the two, though his main concern was mostly on Mabel, who just couldn’t seem to keep well to herself. He didn’t like the looks or mannerisms of this man, even if he was just a couple years Dipper’s elder. He looked _unsavory_.

 

“My name’s Mabel,” the brunette said amidst the silence that threatened to grow once more. This elicited a triumphant look on Cipher’s features. Somehow Dipper had the feeling that Cipher was just a very expressional person to begin with, given the man’s predatorily eerie nature. Doubling over while offering his gloved hand to the female twin, Cipher let his eyes rest on hers as his smile faded to something a bit more genuine.

 

“Pleasure’s mine,” he murmured gently. From nothing to everything, this intimidating stranger went from ‘obvious jerk’ to ‘downright gentleman.’ It seemed to ease Mabel’s emotions, as it only spiked Dipper’s paranoia; though no matter what this stranger did, it would just play into Dipper’s paranoia regardless. As he continued to speak, the blond righted himself, though kept his hand loosely around Mabel’s to support it between them.

 

“Nice to see at least one of the Pines has manners. Since you were kind enough for pleasantries, I’ll do the same for you. The name’s Bill Cipher, kid – well, Mabel. My family runs the local coffee shop in town. We’re one of the largest States exports for coffee beans. Cousins grow ‘em, sell ‘em, and give the extra crops to my half of the family for our shop. Something about the Oregon air that just makes those beans sprout. I’ll show you around the farm sometime, if you should like.”

 

Bill’s eyes wandered over in Dipper’s direction, and in that second, seemed to lose all trace of innocence. They were conniving, calculating, and appearing to take in every aspect of the target in his sights. It was just Dipper’s downfall to have been the object of Cipher’s current attentions. Every hair on the back of his neck stood on end. There was the air of danger laying thickly on him, though he couldn’t tell if it was because of this man in the doorway holding his sister’s hand, or of what was to come. Why didn’t Stan or Ford like this guy? Besides the obvious, of course. Had something happened? Was this Bill Cipher part of the mysterious business that went on in the basement? Dipper wasn’t sure, and he was feeling ever more awkward with each passing second.

 

“…Still no recognition?” Bill laughed at Dipper’s expense, though that wasn’t such a foreign concept. Many laughed at the brunet, though not all were akin to a wolf. Bill proceeded to release Mabel’s hand and move more into the hall and out of the doorway. His cerulean eyes were glued to Dipper, despite the two great uncles attempting to step in between.

 

“Alright, Cipher. You’ve had your fun. Get out,” Ford snapped. Even as he reached out to place a hand on the predator’s shoulder, it did nothing to take his eyes off of Dipper. If anything, it seemed to spur him on. It wasn’t until Bill was met with the end of the barrel of a handgun that he was taken aback, and then promptly began to laugh.

 

“Wow! Alright, you got me,” Bill chortled as he lifted his hands. He didn’t miss the opportunity to offer a wink, though. “Put the gun down there, kiddo. I _was_ going to ask if that was a gun in your pocket or if you were just happy to see me, but I guess that answers that. Have to say though, you’re packing.”

 

Hands deftly cocking the gun as though he were trained specifically for this moment, Dipper’s face warmed considerably at the gibes. Still, he didn’t back down, and that was what seemed to make Bill’s eyes all the more frightening. It amused him, it appeared.

 

“Something tells me you’re the youngest,” Cipher mused, lowering his hands to reside in the pockets of his finely tailored black pressed pants. “You’re defensive, scheming. Usually the baby of the family likes to go after attention, be the center of it, get everything they want. But you’re something different. You’re the quiet type.”

 

Turning on his heel, Bill made his way back out the door and offered a wave with his other gloved hand on the way out. There were no parting words, no other forms of acknowledgement other than the wave and the departure. It wasn’t until the door was closed and locked again did Dipper lower the gun to point at the floor, and Stan instantly went to take it out of his hands.

 

“…Nice work, kid,” Stan mumbled under his breath as he removed the magazine and bullet from the loaded chamber. “I’m impressed.”

 

“Somehow I don’t think you’re the only one, Stanley.” Ford raised an eyebrow at his brother when their eyes met. “He doesn’t usually stop by. At least, not that Family. I have the feeling he’s not going to be letting go so easily. Not since Dipper just went ahead and met his challenge.”

 

Slowly coming out of his stupor, Dipper looked up at his great uncles and was eventually catching onto their verbiage.

 

“…What ‘challenge?’” the brunet was almost afraid to ask. “I thought he was going to hurt us. Everybody was so tense, and I…I just wanted to make sure we were okay. I mean…I mean he was coming inside the house and you guys were trying to get rid of him. I wasn’t _really_ going to shoot him.”

 

Ford and Stan exchanged looks, then finally took a long, drawn out breath before looking back at the younger Pines.

 

“We know, Dipper,” Ford murmured after a moment. “Look, maybe you’re old enough now. At the least, if Cipher **does** come back, you’ll be better prepared for what to expect. Let’s go back into the kitchen.”

 

 

**~**

 

 

The backstory of the Pines’ wealth was not exactly an easy one to convey to Dipper and Mabel, especially when there was quite a bit of over-the-top violence threaded throughout. Stan and Ford _may_ have glossed over those parts, though the few necessary bits were painted in the absolute best light they could manage. It didn’t seem to faze Mabel, though Dipper was a bit horrified by the end of it. He didn’t really think his two great uncles actually killed unless in self-defense, so he simply felt that those parts were added in for embellishment. It was the fact that apparently Stan and Ford were mafia heads that had a rival Family of the Ciphers. He didn’t exactly understand what all that entailed, but it didn’t take more than a thought or two to be drawn to the more gruesome conclusion made available to him. And he had just been ‘challenged’ by the son of another crime syndicate. What were the odds?

 

“…S-so…what does this…mean?” Dipper nervously asked on a whisper. He dared not even look up from the table; rather taking to staring at each individual groove and imperfection than be in the moment and truly acknowledging any of this. As long as he focused on that wooden table, he wasn’t there, and none of this was happening, and he wasn’t in danger. Seemed logical at the time.

 

“Well, it just means you’re going to be carting a gun from now on,” Stan mused, and received a smack from his brother in turn. “Uh…just for protection. You won’t actually be using it. Like tonight, kid. It’ll all be fine. Might even blow over.”

 

That seemed unlikely.

 

“In any case, Dipper,” Ford sighed, “it’s always best to be vigilant. You already are, and can already assess situations. If you don’t need to let others know you have a weapon, don’t. It’s as simple as that. The Cipher Family doesn’t usually come over to this neck of the woods anyway. There’s no reason to. We don’t do any business together. Besides, a couple of years back, we signed an agreement of peace between our factions. They have no reason to come over this way. Bill just wanted to be himself and be…arrogant.”

 

“…What about Mabel?” Dipper murmured, his eyes finally brave enough to venture upwards.

“…She said her name. A-and he wants to take her to his…farm…”

 

In some obscure way, that sounded far more sinister than it should have.

 

“Dipper, Mabel and you are alright,” Ford reiterated, though Dipper had to admit he didn’t really believe him. He wanted to, certainly. There was just no true reason to. Not after what he had just witnessed. “Just do as you usually do, and you’ll be fine.”

 

There was a tinge of reassurance in those last three words being repeated a few times, but still the worry nagged on in Dipper’s mind. It burrowed deeply, taking root in the darkest recesses where his paranoia was born. Even as the rest of the night was meant to be spent on celebration and happier thoughts and moments, but it was truly just spent dwelling on what may or may not happen in the near and distant future. There really was no telling, as Dipper wasn’t receiving any information on who or what Bill Cipher was. All he really knew was the fact that his family grew and harvested coffee beans, and was somehow just as shifty as his own great uncles. Had a deal gone south? What exactly did his _own_ family specialize in?

 

There were too many questions, and Dipper had the feeling he was going to be told over many, many years. This _was_ the empire he was apparently going to inherit one day, but he was only eighteen. Far too young to lead a crime syndicate.

 

 

**~**

 

 

Rain pounded against the windowsill as Dipper watched each raindrop have its own little race against one another down the fogged glass. It was a pastime of his when he didn’t know what else to do, and on a rainy day such as today, there really was nothing interesting to do. Between the trickling drops before his eyes, Dipper focused in on a car pulling into the off-road drive that circled in front of the Shack. Sleek, onyx black, and reeking of money, the youngest of the Pines twins watched the driver step out of the regal vehicle and point his umbrella towards the sky. With a soft _‘shick,’_ _‘whomf,_ ’ the umbrella opened and obscured the view for the brunet on the visitor. Crinkling his nose momentarily, Dipper climbed off the window seat and made his way downstairs as prominent knocking echoed into the staircase.

 

“I’ll get it!” Mabel cheered out, and flounced past her brother towards the front door. Her emerald green wrap-dress swayed to and fro as she bounded down the hall, the shimmering waistband reflecting the entirety of the hall lights with each step. Once she opened the door, there was a pause and a sort of beaten breath exhaled as she stepped back. Dipper simply heard the soft clicks of Mabel’s heels as she backed away from the visitor, followed by the confident stride of the silent guest. Stepping off the last stair, the male twin’s hand was still resting on the banister as he came face to face with Bill Cipher. It probably shouldn’t have been that difficult to foresee, and yet here he was.

 

“Well hello, mystery boy!” the blond grinned widely, one hand reaching up to remove his top hat in pseudo respects. “Your pops’ at home? Need to ask them something.”

 

Dipper didn’t respond for a long while, mostly because he was standing there slack-jawed with his eyes trained on Cipher’s canines gleaming just beneath his curled lip. Everything about the stranger was wolfish. At last he regained his composure – or what little he ever had – and gave a nod.

 

“…Yeah, I’ll get them.”

 

Letting go of the banister and beginning to turn, Dipper stopped in his tracks as a hand gingerly wrapped around his hand. The beady feel of warm leather graced his palm, making the brunet almost shiver as he turned back around. Bill was holding his hand, and for reasons well beyond Dipper.

 

“…Um…” Dipper began, and abruptly ended as there really was no better statement other than that. It surmised the situation fairly well. Bill shook his head briefly and performed a similar bow as the one he had bestowed a few weeks prior for Mabel. Dipper could feel his face warming up again, and prayed to anything and everything above that it wasn’t visible. The soft stinging on his nose suggested otherwise.

 

“We never were properly introduced,” Bill reminded gently, his tone going against every feature on his face. “So why not start over, while I have you here? Bill Cipher. And you are?”

 

“What the _hell_ are you doing back here, Cipher?”

 

A short sigh was had by the blond, who righted himself once more. Dipper was saved from formal pleasantries by his great uncle, thankfully. He had been lacking his gun this round.

 

“…Proposition for you, Fez!” Bill shrugged, his hand dropping Dipper’s hand as though he were discarding an unwanted accessory. “Remember a few weeks ago I offered a tour of my family’s farm to your niece? Well, I’ve come to make good on my offer and request your permission to escort her. So, what’cha say?”

 

Mabel was anything but the common lady, and was not one for remaining silent when she herself was on the line, or being left out of a decision. Still, she bid her time and bit her tongue, despite every thread of her being going against it. It truly was miraculous she didn’t give the blond a piece of her mind, though it would soon be coming to pass. Dipper moved to stand by his twin instead of being in between the two rivals. It really was strange watching his elderly great uncle go up against a twenty-something. It was also humorous.

 

“Wouldn’t want to break our agreement, right?” Bill pressed. “I’ll have her back before nightfall. Just a tour, then home safely once more. You can even throw in a chaperone, if you’d like. I know how much you trust me already, but if it would make you feel more secure, I won’t think anything of it.”

 

There was a moment of silence, and it wasn’t difficult to tell just how much Stan wished Bill were dead right then. A war between the factions would cause much more bloodshed than profit, though, and in the realm of pretentious formalities and friendships, Stan was cornered. There really was no way out of this. The situation posed at hand was suggesting courtship, and eventual marriage. Union of the rivals would be among the worst things the Pines could endure. Their empire would leave the Pines’ hands completely and be ruled by the men of the Cipher hold. And that was if Dipper truly did cherish his sister’s life and wellbeing. It would be odd if he didn’t, and it seemed that was exactly what Bill was banking on.

 

“…Back before sundown, otherwise I’m calling the police,” Stan finally murmured with a gruff tone. “And take the boy with you. If I find out anything happened to either of them, deal’s off.”

 

With Stan’s permission, Bill’s grin returned to a more normalized state, and the blond turned on his heel to take in the sight of Mabel. Offering his hand once again to her, he put on his most gentleman act the blond ever displayed in that house.

 

“I wanted to ask your guardian’s permission first, as is customary, but I did also want to ask for yours as well. Feel free to refuse, but would you like to accompany me this morning?”

 

 

**~**

 

 

And so Dipper found himself as the third-wheel in a luxury vehicle bound for the country side. The rain was still coming down in sheets, and he honestly had no idea how they were going to be able to peruse the farm with soaked grass and near-hail coming down on their heads. If Bill was expecting the rain to clear up by now, it was doing the exact opposite.

 

“…The rain looks like it’s coming down harder,” Mabel eventually said to break the silence. Seated on the far end of the three-seater row, she leaned forward and looked in front of her brother to actually view their host. Bill returned the gesture and positioned himself more open to Dipper’s opposite side to better speak with Mabel. Dipper was most definitely the third-wheel. So much so that he was quite literally stuck in the middle.

 

“You make a good point. Maybe we won’t stop by the country today,” the blond nodded, then rested his elbow on Dipper’s shoulder to better support his chin. “I have a villa not that far from here. It’s rather small, only a three-roomed building. Provides an excellent view of the lake, though.”

 

The driver never seemed to veer off his predestined course, however, despite Bill having seemed to change his mind about their plans for the day. Dipper couldn’t help but feel his paranoia rise, even as he was being used as a resting pillow. It was bad enough when Mabel did things like that, but somehow when Bill was doing it, it was all the worse for him. The drive was not a long one, though the rain made it seem to go on forever. Once Dipper was certain an eon of silence had passed with Cipher’s pointed shoulder _still_ utilizing his shoulder, they eventually drove up on the winding drive of the incredibly small villa. It held a stone façade, and was actually quite charming in a way. A small chimney poked up from around the back, and led down to what seemed to be an attached fireplace within the tiny building. It didn’t even seem to be three rooms within the tiny home. That notion seemed far too generous.

 

The door was opened and the small group was escorted by umbrella to the door, where Bill skipped unlocking to go straight to opening the door. It was another clue that made Dipper all the more suspicious; almost as though Bill had been planning this specifically. Once inside, the blond moved to remove a majority of his accessories and coat before going and poking about the fireplace in the miniature kitchen to get it lit. Mabel gushed over the decorating, as it was mostly floral and glitter, for some strange reason. Cipher seemed like a flashy guy, so the glittered objects weren’t entirely farfetched. Dipper was not as impressed with the rows upon rows of bouquets, and instead took a silent invitation that may or may not have been given to sit down on the one available sofa. The driver shut the door behind him as he went back out to the car, and Mabel, with nothing to do, decided to join her brother on the lounger.

 

“…It’s beautiful here,” Mabel complimented with a smile, despite Bill being unable to directly see her. “Do you need any help with the fire?”

 

“…Actually, yes,” Bill called from the kitchen, and Mabel began to rise to answer the request. That is, up until Dipper wondered if it was a trick, and instead rose up himself. Stepping into the tiled kitchen, the male twin took a cursory glance of the ridiculously tiny kitchen before approaching a kneeling Bill.

 

“Ah, it’s you,” the blond chuckled. “Hand me three of those logs over there.”

 

Dipper turned to see where Bill was pointing, and moved to pluck out three of the best looking logs from the neatly organized pile by the back door, which Dipper took note was locked. Returning by Bill’s side, the brunet kneeled down with him and laid two of the logs inside the fireplace to form a point, before laying the third on top to act as the fire-catcher. He sat back on his heels, waiting for Bill to place the tinder inside. Instead, he got a smirk from the other beside him.

 

“…So you’re good with wood, eh?”

 

Dipper stood up and walked back out to the sofa, trying to ignore the soft cackles he was leaving behind.

 

“…Is he okay with the fire-“

 

“Yeah he’s fine.”

 

Awkwardness aside, Dipper settled back into the sofa and started taking in the sights of the knick-knacks around them. There were vases, trinkets, books, and almost endless fresh flowers, but no portraits were to be seen. Dipper couldn’t tell if that was due to potential snooping, or if it was just sad. Oil landscapes shone in the drearily painted room, with the storm clouds masking the otherwise pale yellow of the walls. Should the weather clear up, it really had an adorable little side home-away-from-home sort of vibe. The comfortable relaxing scenery almost made Dipper forget they were dealing with a fairly dangerous heroine dealer with even deeper ties to spur-of-the-moment homicide. Still, the throw pillows were very plush.

 

**~**

 

 

Hours passed, though they dragged on as though they were days. Dipper didn’t speak much, save for a few grunted ‘thank you’s whenever Bill offered finger foods or Mabel poured from the kettle. The conversations were left to the two “courting” beside him, and Dipper just really wanted to remain curled up on his side of the sofa while Bill sat to the side of them in his modern armchair. It didn’t really fit the aesthetic of the small villa, but it did seem a lot like Bill, from what Dipper already knew of him. Sleek, black, and the center of attention.

 

Somewhere along the line, Dipper droned out from the pleasantries and exchanges of compliments and nearly fell asleep in his tea. It was fairly dull, fairly uninteresting. He sat in regret of not bringing along a novel to peruse while the whatever-this-was could live its course. There were many regrets to be had as Dipper was slowly being killed by boredom.

 

“…I think it’s getting a bit late, isn’t it?” Mabel murmured around her coffee. In actuality, it was near impossible to tell what was storm and what was nightfall. Dipper’s energy perked up a bit at the notion of returning to normality, instead of the whatever-this-was. Setting down their cups almost simultaneously, the twins’ attentions were fully on Bill as they sat in wait for the blond’s word on the matter. They watched him set down his cup as well, then proceed to glance over the pair.

 

“My cabbie is still in the drive,” Bill eventually noted, giving a small nod. “I did promise to have you back by sundown, and it might be approaching that already. Hard to tell with the thunderheads and all that.”

 

Rising from his armchair, Bill stepped to the window to signal the cabbie to return with the umbrella for the twins, then loosely held his wrists behind his back as he turned back towards Dipper and Mabel. The pair followed his lead and stood up to stand by the doorway. At least things were relatively civil, and not as hostile as Dipper had previously feared. Bill was still one strange man, but at least he treated his sister as the lady she was; especially what with how he already gave her the power of a decision, which was fairly uncommon during this time. Dipper could respect that. At the least, he appreciated it.

 

“Thank you for inviting us over, Bill,” Mabel smiled. “We had a very nice time. Maybe you can stop by for some tea at our home sometime.”

 

“…Maybe,” Dipper interjected, as he was still incredibly weary of the man who was still very much a stranger. Mabel glanced at her brother with a pointed look, though Bill didn’t really make any form of response. It was probably for the best.

 

The door opened and the umbrella was held up to prevent any stray raindrops soiling Mabel’s dress, and the twins began to offer their goodbyes. Mabel ducked her head under the umbrella and stepped outside, and Dipper felt a hard object jabbed into the small of his back. Freezing, the male twin fought to keep his composure as his sister turned to question him. Cipher had a gun this entire time?

 

“…I uh, actually wanted to talk with Bill about something,” Dipper muttered when the nozzle was pressed further into his jacket. “Besides, Stan just said to have _you_ back by sundown. I’ll be home soon, okay?”

 

Mabel wanted to press, to question every angle of this newfound information, but she had the feeling there wouldn’t be that much uncovered, all in all. With a slightly irate sigh, the brunette nodded and turned to follow the driver back into the car. He held the door for her, and ensured she remained dry and secure before heading back to behind the wheel. As the car began to move and head out the muddied drive, that was when Bill stepped forward to close and lock the door; the gun removed from Dipper’s back to now be pointed in his general direction. The smirk was back, as was the intensity of those eyes.

 

“…What the hell.”

 

Being shushed in an ambiguously mocking manner, Dipper’s brow knit more closely together. There weren’t many things in the world that the brunet cared for, but among them was definitely not being treated like a toy. With those blazing blue eyes boring holes into his skin, it didn’t seem like there was much he could do. At least he was packing once more.

 

“You’re pretty observant,” Bill shrugged at last, his smile shrinking just a tad. “And yet you didn’t notice the key elements to this particular story. The sudden change of plans, the unlocked door, and even all of these freshly-cut flowers. You really didn’t notice?”

 

Dipper began to reach slowly for his concealed handgun, though that ridiculous notion was cut short almost instantaneously once his wrist was snatched away from the opening of his pocket by Bill’s free hand. Having successfully captured the slender joint, Bill was more than satisfied with himself as he dangled it slightly above Dipper’s brown locks; the gun pressing beneath the brunet’s lapel to start pushing it aside. Red was the color of the day, it seemed, as the smaller male’s face was burning brightly by this point.

 

“…What do you want?”

 

While Dipper valiantly tried to sound stoic and enduring, the ever-so-subtle cracks in his voice betrayed him in the same breath. Sharpened canines gleamed down at him as Bill closed more of the distance. A hand released the young man’s wrist in favor of searching his pocket a bit too eagerly, which just caused Dipper to feel all the more awkward. Now that his rival was loaded with two guns, the brunet was not feeling as much worried as he was annoyed. It was constantly a power-play that Bill was after, and now had successfully won. Just because Dipper was smaller, younger, shorter, inexperienced…

 

Dipper didn’t have much going for him in that moment.

 

“Relax, kid. I just didn’t want you pulling that thing out again and hurting somebody,” the blond murmured, using both barrel ends to slide the front lining of Dipper’s jacket to his sides. His eyes were no longer fixated on the brown ones beneath him, but rather keen on inspecting the way Dipper’s dress shirt hung on his torso. “…You’d more than likely hurt yourself. I take it you’ve never actually shot a man before. Or a woman, if I should be so bold. You don’t seem like…well, a marksman.”

 

There was a thin line of euphemism hanging between the words that just fluttered forth from the predator’s lips, and it made Dipper uneasy. Still, he wasn’t backing down, and at this point, he couldn’t really tell if that was benefiting him, or securing his downfall. At least Mabel was out of the crossfire, should there be any.

 

“You let anyone touch you before?” Bill decided to ask. The ends of the barrels straying to his sides made Dipper involuntarily twitch, and he wondered how dangerous it would be to just go ahead and grab at least one of the weapons. At the same time, it wasn’t entirely unenjoyable. It was more so strange and definitely unexpected.

 

“…So…you’re gay?” Dipper returned instead, and quickly sank his teeth into his lower lip as Bill began to laugh. “It just…seemed like you were interested in my sister. Wasn’t all of this planned for her?”

 

“Are you _not_ gay?” An arched brow leered above him, though the taller of the two leaned to the side to set down the smaller of the two guns. There was more fun to be had if there was one hand at the ready. “You know, you’re not exactly _stopping_ me here. I’d venture to say you actually _like_ this.”

 

Silence was the returned response, and it wasn’t that much of a surprise. It did make Cipher much more confident in his movements, however, and in the same breath, Dipper’s wrists were taken deftly and held above his head. Steadily Bill used them as a lead to bring the brunet up against the nearest wall, where he was effectively pinned with a gun beneath his ribs.

 

“…If you don’t like it, say something, then. I’m not hearing any ‘maybe’s, and definitely no ‘no’s,” Bill murmured. Sincerity was laced on his tongue, and it was something that genuinely surprised Dipper. No doubt this appeared as something else, but for an inheritor of one of the largest crime syndicates in the States, consent was actually something important. Or so it seemed. Perhaps Bill just wanted a struggle.

 

Dipper wouldn’t be able to lie: this was tempting. He just wasn’t exactly sure why. Perhaps it was something about the notion of danger, along with the hidden proposal of respect. It could be _fun_.

 

“You’re not planning on shooting me, are you?” Dipper countered, his ever suspicious eyes trying to get a read from the blond. “I mean…if you’re not going to be killing me, I guess…”

 

If the moment held any fragility, it had been broken right then and there. The grip on the wrists just above his head tightened substantially, almost enough to leave traces of bruises for the following day. Ducking down to begin claiming affections from his rival’s lips, risk was what was riding between the two, as well as a loaded gun. Props were just as important as the main event.

 

“I want to choke your pretty little throat,” was the husky sentiment uttered from the blond. In any other instance, Dipper would probably have bolted. Glued - tethered even - to the wall with Cipher’s body acting as a makeshift prison, the male Pines twin was steadily becoming more aroused. The thought of Bill’s forceful, leather-bound hand wrapped carefully just behind his collar, as the other hand were free to do as he wished - it was quite the vision. Dipper never liked giving up any form of control, and yet here he was, already giving into the thought of being dominated.

 

“…I want you to take off your clothes,” Bill breathily ordered directly into Dipper’s ear. “You’re going to take off everything, and if you make a move for the gun, I’m going to make sure you regret it.”

 

Dipper’s throat was virtually unable to swallow thickly at the sexual threat. His eyes had since slipped closed, and he had been trying to focus on his shaky gasps that intermingled with Bill’s hot breath. He gave a slight nod to show his compliance, though the hand binding his wrists didn’t budge.

 

“Or would you _like_ me to punish you?” came the tease. “You probably would, you dirty little whore.”

 

Playful nips were offered to Dipper’s ear as the brunet tried to hide his heated blush behind one of his lifted arms. It brought on the compulsion to draw up one of his knees - a pathetic attempt to both conceal and satisfy the growing problem between his thighs. While the effort was noble, it only drew attention to that area, to which Bill just couldn’t help himself. The gun’s end glided over the younger’s stomach to be brought to the curve in his pants, the top of the barrel moving forward and backward ever so slowly to please the neglected area. There was something about the hard, cold metal pressing through the material and against his growing bud that made Dipper whine. Eyes screwed shut even tighter, and soft whimpers arose from the previously-closed throat to echo tantalizingly in Bill’s ears.

 

“I’m going to let go now,” Bill whispered once more, though the gun’s movements against Dipper’s crotch failed to cease. “And you’re going to do what you’re told.”

 

And so the improvisational binds of Bill’s gloved hands were removed from Dipper’s wrists, as was the gun from between his legs. A hushed protesting fuss was emitted from the brunet’s throat before he had the chance to prevent it, but he eventually moved down his hands from above his head to comply with the order. If nothing else, Dipper was _insatiably curious_ to see where this would go.

 

First, he completed the first task Bill had attempted, which had been to remove the outer jacket from Dipper’s frame. Sliding the thicker fabric over his narrow shoulders, the blazer fell lifelessly to the floor in a crumpled heap as lithe fingers went to begin unbuttoning his dress shirt. The air of anticipation just to see bared skin was causing the sense of urgency in Bill to just rip off what remained of the clothing keeping him from feeling that flushed skin under his palm and under his gun. Who knew live munitions doubled as an aphrodisiac? Dipper certainly didn’t, and it was due to this that he worked all the quicker to shed his shirt. Once the milky-white skin of his torso was revealed, Bill reached out an impatient hand to hurriedly unbuckle the belt keeping Dipper’s nether regions confined. His hips bucked out from the carefully driven snap of Bill’s wrist, and in less than a second, Dipper’s pants were sagging just a tinge lower than prior. It provided a delicious preview of the tops of the defined hip bones the hem was hiding beneath.

 

Bill was going to bite the hell out of those.

 

Dipping down to kneel on the wooden flooring, one of the blond’s free arms snaked around the other’s hips to tautly keep him in place, while the preoccupied hand made use of pressing the side of the barrel squarely into the base of Dipper’s rear. Bill was careful to have his fingers nowhere near the trigger, and at least had the sense to not let the inexperienced one of the pair have access to his own. It was a dangerous game he was playing by utilizing that within the foreplay, but it was paying off undoubtedly. The growing bulge before his eyes was an accurate testimony to that.

 

“I’m impatient,” Bill informed to the confused Dipper. “You’re still going to get naked soon enough, but you’re teasing the life out of me.”

 

“…I was trying to strip fast,” Dipper retorted with an arched brow. Still, he wasn’t about to go against whatever Bill was planning. The other was so close to his member. The warm breaths playing across his bare abdomen was causing the coil of warmth nestled inside to curl even tighter. Gentle kisses began to be placed on the other’s skin, traversing over the stretched hills of Dipper’s ribs down to the soft puff of his lower stomach. The sensation was sweet, borderline loving, even. That is, until Bill’s teeth decided to try to take a large chunk off the brunet’s waist in a mischievous bite. A short, surprised cry left Dipper’s lips, though that quickly faded into the giggles as his nerves were abused.

 

“For not stripping fast enough,” Bill informed with a wry smile. The leather-bound hand firmly snug around Dipper’s hips clung specifically to the hem of his trousers, as his teeth made work on undoing the button to loosen them. As that feat was accomplished, the blond paid no heed to the zipper, and he instead opted to continue to let Dipper’s pants keep him confined for the time being. Pulling them down as far as the few opened notches on the zipper would allow, Bill successfully exposed much more of the hip bones he was keen on. He wasn’t entirely merciless, and gave affectionate nuzzles to the neglected area he was working up to. If anything though, that act alone was anything but merciful. It made Dipper writhe with something akin to agony. Whining wasn’t seeming to get him anywhere, even though there was a large part of him that didn’t want this to be sped up.

 

Good things came to those who waited, the saying went. Dipper wasn’t sure how long he was going to be able to hold out, though.

 

 

**~**

 

 

Time was a blur as teeth, lips, leather, and cold metal graced Dipper’s skin, and the brunet had all he could possibly manage to not move. At last he was rewarded, and carried off to the sofa he and his sister had been awkwardly nestled a couple of hours prior. Shoes were carefully pulled off of the young man lying on his furniture, then were his socks, which slid up with a bit of hesitation from the feet they were slightly stuck to. A small, kneading massage was offered to the flats of Dipper’s feet before they were set back down in favor of fully taking off his trousers. With the clothing and accessories set off in a haphazard heap beside the window, Bill found he was still fully dressed as he straddled the brown-haired boy beneath him. It was an enticing sight, and one that whet the kingpin’s appetite quite nicely.

 

The way Dipper’s bone and slight muscle created sharper shadows in the deep valleys of his pale curves, to how wide and misty his fawn eyes were as they watched his every move. There was something both electric and innocent about this encounter, which spoke volumes of Dipper’s previous experiences, or more likely, lack thereof. The brunet responded so well to each touch and caress, it was making Bill all but salivate.

 

He positively _was_ a wolf.

 

“So, you like leather?” Bill whispered as though in a trance. There was no way he was going to let his brash voice act like a rock in the stillness of the moment and ruin everything he had. If he could keep Dipper looking like this beneath him for eternity, it would be a semblance of heaven even Bill Cipher would still not be worthy of. “You look like you’re enjoying my gloves.”

 

It was true, and impossible to deny as the lengthy leathered fingers flowed up the invisible trails of his body to reach and tweak his nipples. Dipper’s hands grasped at the raised ends of the throw pillows in an attempt to keep from swatting away the overwhelming sensation. Breathing hard despite how much effort Dipper was putting in to focus on the pace of his breaths, the brunet’s eyes continued to grow wet from the new stimulation.

 

“Y…yeah…” Dipper panted, his fingers curling tighter as the older played more forcefully with his buds.

 

“Would you like me to stroke you with these gloves?”

 

The idea flooded Dipper’s skin, giving him a taste of the stimulation before it even began. Marginally beaded warmth offering the tinge of friction against his slick erection, which would eventually be the cause of the pumping to become lubricious and quick. His own pre-cum would act as a lubricant for the leathered fingers frisking his shaft, to provoke the movements to be almost too much for him to handle.

 

Just the imagery of it made Dipper all the more agreeable.

 

“Y-yes…pl-please…”

 

“Well, since you asked _so nicely_ ,” Bill cooed, his fingers leaving the other’s reddened nipples to meander down to his penis. “Think you can start asking for the things you want me to do to you? I would love to know every scandalous thing you can imagine, kid.”

 

Dipper’s face managed to turn a darker red, though he nodded despite the embarrassment bubbling up inside him. He wasn’t sure if he could really _ask_ for certain things, as he wasn’t entirely sure of _what_ to ask _for_. Still, if he enjoyed something, he was going to be vocal about it.

 

“Good boy,” was the praise Dipper received, and as an extra reward, gloved hands strongly grasped Dipper’s rear to lift his hips into the air to set his bottom in his lap. The Pines’ lower back was caressed for a moment with the gloves before Bill began slowly stroking Dipper’s shaft with one hand. It was delightful to watch the brunet squirm unendingly under the lightest of touches, feeling each small wave of tenseness course through Dipper’s legs on either side of him. There were times the male twin buckled his knees just to bring them skyward once more, but he was being _such a **good boy**_ and would lower them once more to allow Bill complete access. Tears welled at the corners of Dipper’s eyes, then trickled down the width of his temples to settle in his umber tresses.

 

He was so _beautiful._

 

“ _Someone’s_ enjoying themselves,” Bill smirked, his hand never letting up on the pace he had set for Dipper. “But you know? You know what might make this better?”

 

Moving his free hand to retrieve the gun from earlier, the blond gave no warning before setting the cold, steeled glock under Dipper’s balls; letting the hitch stimulate the underside of them while the barrel rubbed within the crevice of his rear. The sudden chill made Dipper shiver with a gasp, though there wasn’t any sort of protest whatsoever. Like the ‘dirty little whore’ the sleight young man was, he began to attempt to lift his hips to grind against the handgun. It was improper and dangerous, but it felt like perfection.

 

“…If you keep this up, I’m not going to be letting you be teased any longer.”

 

Bill took away his hand from pumping Dipper, which instantaneously elicited an irritated wail from the receiver. Dipper moved his balled fist from the pillows to wipe away the stinging tears in his eyes. A part of him was actually worried this was over. That worry subsided once the gloved palm brushed away a few stray tears he missed, and Dipper wasted no time before nuzzling into the hand. He didn’t have long to accept its comforts before it latched itself onto his throat, each fingertip drumming playfully on the side of his neck, just beside the main artery.

 

“…I told you I wanted to choke your pretty little throat,” the blond huskily murmured. His tone was pure gravel, and sent shivers down Dipper’s spine. Steadily Dipper continued to grind himself on the glock, all the while Cipher intermittently pressed down to partially dislodge his contender’s windpipe. New tears began to form as his mouth opened, though Dipper didn’t struggle for air. He could breathe, but not without knowing each breath was being monitored allowed by Cipher himself. It was intoxicating. Elating. To control such _willing_ life beneath his hand was a power he was definitely getting harder from.

 

“Such a pretty mouth, too.”

 

Dipper’s head was swimming with both irrefutable lust and deprivation of oxygen, and at this point, he was unable to tell if the two were connected. He remained still, save for the slow movements of his hips against the object in Bill’s other hand. This was definitely uncovering long-awaited, hidden kinks of the young man.

 

When he was certain there would be soft bruises from where his hand had been, and when Dipper showed he had no more strength to pleasure himself against the gun, that was when Bill relinquished his hold and returned unlimited air to the young heir. He took gratification in the slightly laborious rise and fall of Dipper’s stomach as the poor boy righted his breath once again, and set the gun off to the side. With a few nimble movements, the belt and other clothes adorning Bill Cipher were discarded, and Dipper’s hips were firmly taken by heated, bared hands.

 

There was the slickness of rubber, as well as a few extra add-ons that had aided the preparation of the brunet for the main course. Wrapping his arms about the Pines twin, Bill lifted him to support him fully, and lower him onto his wrapped, presented cock. Dipper whimpered in discomfort, but was shushed lovingly by the kisses offered to his dried lips. Tear-stains were gingerly wiped away, and the exquisite skin Bill would readily dedicate his life to worshiping was given tender kisses and distracting nips. The pain was a new one, though it would be one Dipper would rapidly learn to enjoy.

 

“B…Bill…” Dipper began, wincing quietly as he moved his legs to wrap around Bill’s waist. “…Please…

 

“Go slow, please.”

 

It was such a simple, sweet request, and while the notoriously homicidal Cipher had already been planning on it, it was asked in such a way that there was no possible chance he could deny Dipper that. Offering a nuzzle accompanied by strewn kisses, Bill waited to answer until he could bring a smile and soft laugh to the brunet. Once that was accomplished, and Dipper seemed distracted and adjusted, the blond pulled back enough to place proper kiss to the other’s lips.

 

“Of course.”

**~**

 

Filtered pastel rays of orange and peach peered down through the long-since-dried window of the villa’s living room. Save for the soft breaths of the pair nestled closely to one another, the entire world was silent and still. It appeared as though time had stopped specifically for the two sweethearts. The warm blanket was draped and shared over the cooling bodies, and Dipper was not all that worried about having to pry his skin from Bill’s once they decided to officially wake up. For the moment, there was nothing but the both of them, and the peace that accompanied such a rousing night.

 

Soon the floorboards were painted in vivid yellow, and the warmth of the sun stained the blanket to the companions’ skin underneath. The sunrise was a beautiful one as it recovered the earth from the night’s rain, and shimmered with the brilliance of fire gems in the blue and brown eyes of the onlookers. It could be agreed that despite the stunning beauty of the crisp morning, neither of the two sets of eyes were focused on anything but the other’s.

 

Life was strange, but it was a good strange for the two lovers.

 

**~**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Would anyone believe me when I say this was intended to be a drabble, but became something far too big far too fast
> 
> Cause I wouldn't believe me either. This would have gone on forever. Hopefully this turned out okay for you!
> 
> Happy birthday, SpaceCase ♥


End file.
